


keep the world outside

by superhoney



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 11.18 coda, Coda, Family Feels, Home, Hurt/Comfort, Introspection, M/M, Men of Letters Bunker, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-07
Updated: 2016-04-07
Packaged: 2018-05-31 21:06:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6487378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/superhoney/pseuds/superhoney
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Coda for 11.18</p>
<p>He wants Cas. He wants him, safe and whole, in this home that Sam and Dean have created, and he wants him to stay, to leave his own impressions on the bunker, to let it be his refuge as well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	keep the world outside

Dean means it, when he says they’ll bring Cas home. Not just the intention, the usual call-to-action, grim-jawed determination that has served he and Sam so well over the years, but also the feeling of it: home. He sits there with Sam at the table in the bunker’s war room and knows that the physical building exists around them, but home is also within them. The two of them, their little family unit, and Cas, who may not have the same blood in his veins but who’s included in that unit nevertheless.

Home is where the heart is, he thinks to himself somewhat hysterically. It seems fitting that Dean’s home is a secret underground bunker warded against all intruders. Though he pretends that Sam’s the smart one of the two of them, even he recognizes the symbolism there. It takes a lot, to get past Dean’s defenses. 

But Cas has always had a way of doing just that.

Dean had hoped that he might be able to do the same for Cas. To get through to him, past Lucifer, to reach him and pull him back from this noble, self-destructive bullshit. Same old song, different verse. There’s some symbolism there too, Dean’s love for the classics and reluctance to embrace current musical trends. 

Introspection sucks sometimes, he thinks. 

“Dean?” Sam asks, in that awful soft tone, like he’s trying not to start a fight but knows he will anyways. 

“Yeah,” Dean says, in what he considers a moderately gruff voice. 

“He was there, you know. For at least that one second, that was Cas in there.”

“For that one second, before Lucifer squashed him back down and then got the both of them carried off by Amara. Real helpful.”

“But that means he’s okay. He’s still there.”

“And what good is that doing?” Dean asks sharply. “For him or for us? We haven’t gotten him back, and who knows what he’ll be going through now, caught between the devil and the Darkness.”

“Who, by the way, seems to have lost some of her effect on you. I know you weren’t actively trying to hurt her at the time, but she didn’t seem to be pinning you down like you said she has before.”

“Maybe because we were both too focused on something else. Her on Lucifer, and me on-”

“Cas,” Sam supplies. “I know.”

“Fat lot of good that did.”

“But he saw you, even for that second,” Sam says. “I know he did. You know he did. Maybe that will give him the hope he needs to keep going, or the strength to kick Lucifer out.”

“Or he’ll just realize that it wasn’t enough and it will all have been a colossal waste of our time.”

He’s afraid that Cas will have realized that he’s not enough. That Dean can’t save him, no matter how hard he’s trying. That split second of connection was there, sure, but it accomplished nothing. He can’t help thinking about another time, a few years ago in Lucifer’s crypt (why did it always have to be about Lucifer, in the end?) The connection was broken then, just when Dean thought it was all over, that he was going to die at the hands of his best friend, currently being mind-controlled by angels with overactive egos. Friggin’ angels, Dean thinks again. 

But Cas is an angel too, or was. Still is, technically, but he’s so much more than that, and he always has been. And yes, he has a bit of an ego problem as well, but it’s the reverse of all those others. He’s been left wide open to their ploys because he doesn’t think he’s worth enough on his own, doesn’t feel valuable or needed or useful, so he offers himself up with the best intentions, and it always goes terribly wrong. Dean wonders if Cas learned that from he and Sam, or if it was always there, and they’ve just reinforced his innate tendencies. 

He’s gone silent now, fiddling with the caps from the empty beer bottles lined up on the table in front of him. Sam, who knows when it’s time to push and when it’s time to leave things be, stands up from the table and makes his way out of the room, pausing to clasp Dean’s shoulder briefly. That silent show of support makes Dean clench his jaw even tighter, but he musters out a goodnight, and waits as Sam’s footsteps fade down the bunker’s long hallways.

He and Sam have been doing well lately, he thinks. They’re talking things through, they’re working together, nobody’s keeping any life or universe altering secrets, or at least not for long. All they need is Cas back, albeit in different ways. Cas brings out the best in Sam too, the enthusiasm for research that Dean calls geekiness and pretends to mock but loves to see in both of them. They’ve been there for each other at times when Dean hasn’t been able to, and he’s so happy to know that.

But he and Cas are another story entirely. They’ve never had a chance to just be, to enjoy each other’s company the way he and Sam have, in quiet moments between hunts or when the latest potentially world-ending catastrophe is taking a breather. Everything between them has always been amplified, dialed up to extremes. For so long, Dean tried to pretend that that was the reason his feelings about Cas were so complicated, that the situations they found themselves in heightened everything and that he got caught up in them. He’s older now, though, and he’s felt this way about Cas for long enough. There’s no use denying it any longer, especially if it might be the thing that saves him in the end.

Because when Dean said they’d bring him home, he meant the bunker, sure. He wants Cas in the library, poring over the lore with Sam while Dean makes them burgers and brings them beers and calls them nerds, then listens patiently to them telling him what they’ve discovered. He wants Cas in the war room with them while they plan their move, whether against Lucifer, Amara, or whatever low-grade monsters they’re hunting. He wants Cas in the kitchen, sitting at the table, drinking coffee first thing in the morning, still a little rumpled from sleep.

He wants Cas with him in the room that he’s made his own, pressed in tightly against him in the bed that’s big enough for two. He wants his memory foam mattress to remember Cas’ body next to his, he wants his sheets to smell like him, he wants to wake up every morning with Cas’ arms wrapped around him, to be the one who gets to watch him sleep for a change. 

He wants Cas. He wants him, safe and whole, in this home that Sam and Dean have created, and he wants him to stay, to leave his own impressions on the bunker, to let it be his refuge as well. To know that he has a family, and a place in the world, and that nothing is going to take that away from him again. He wants Cas back. He just hopes he can convince Cas that it’s what he wants as well.

**Author's Note:**

> I had so many feelings about home and family and what those mean after that episode.
> 
> Title from Thursday's This Song Brought To You By A Falling Bomb.


End file.
